


bodyache

by angrylizardjacket (ephemeralstar)



Series: I'm Gonna Have Myself A Real Good Time [10]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) Actor RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Demons, Established Relationship, Good Demons, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Minor Violence, Multi, Polyamory, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2020-12-09 04:44:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20989052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeralstar/pseuds/angrylizardjacket
Summary: Reader is sick, and Lucy and Joe want nothing more than to come and make her feel better, but there’s more at play here than just a headache.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’m worried it’s too exposition-y. I meant this to be one thing but I had to stop it where I did because it’s 2am, and I think it would benefit from being 2 parts. anyways, feedback please would be great! :)
> 
> Reminder: Lucy is a witch. Joe is a demon. Rami is an angel. Gwil is a dryad. Ben is an alien.

You’ve had this headache for what feels like a week. It didn’t start off too bad, it wasn’t like you were hit with a sudden wave of pain behind your eyes, more like someone had been slowly tightening a vice on your skull for three days. Yesterday it was a slight bother. Today it was a _problem_.

“Is there anything either of you can suggest - _non-magical_ -” you have to specify over Skype to Joe and Lucy that night, “to help?”

“I don’t have any traditional cures anymore, I’m sorry, dear.” Lucy frowns, looking a little lost.

“And I’ve never actually _had_ a headache,” Joe muses, “so I can’t exactly help you.”

“Yeah, rub it in why don’t you,” you grumbled, squeezing your eyes closed, rubbing at your brow. After a moment, Joe gives a surprisingly gentle apology, and you can’t help but sigh. “Sorry, it’s just been a long day, the internet says it should go away if I drink water but I’ve had like four glasses and it’s still there.” When you crack your eyes open, you see them both looking back at you with concern written all over their faces. For just a moment, your heart softens, and the pain dulls just a little. “I miss you guys.”

This is the longest the three of you have been apart since they first agreed to go ghost hunting with you. Since the press tour had ended, and the, let’s say eventful hunting trips had ended, you were being whisked back to your office in LA, and they had gone back to the UK and New York to see family and wind down after the tour. But it meant you were all apart, which was sometimes difficult after everything you’d been through.

“That balm I made to help you sleep should keep the pain away while you’re unconscious,” Lucy tries, but it obviously upsets her to see you in pain. She looks like she’s contemplating coming to see you in person, and you know you should wave her off, let her spend time at home, but your head feels like a grape being squished. You stay quiet.

The pain gets worse as the days go by and sometimes you think you see something out of the corner of your eyes, something malevolent, or maybe you think that there’s people watching you as you pass by different desks at work. But you’re pretty sure, at least at first, that it’s just your mind playing tricks on you. You buy more pain killers, and you drink plenty of water, and you use the balm that Lucy made that knocks you out cold every night.

The pain in your mind plateaus at a point where you can barely ignore it, but not at the point where it’s worth anyone else worrying about, and the Tylenol feels like a lifesaver most days.

Until it’s not.

“You’re Cheryl’s assistant, right? You went with her on the _BoRhap_ tour, didn’t you?” The man at the door is familiar in a way that means he’s new and unfamiliar, that you’ve only seen him around the office a few times; he’d started just before you’d arrived back from the tour, apparently.

Weakly, you nod. The painkillers are about as effective as sugar pills today.

“So you like know them? The cast, like did you meet them and stuff?” He asks, far too eager and ignoring your obviously pained expression. Crossing his arms, he leans against the doorframe of your office. You don’t answer, and for the barest moment, with your head in your hands, you feel the pain, the pressure in your head lessen, just a little. “It’s alright if you don’t want to talk about it.” He says, gentler this time.

“Huh?”

“The _Bohemian Rhapsody_ cast, I just, I wanna know what they’re like!”

His name is Marcus, and there’s something about him that doesn’t seem right. But you’re not sure what.

He keeps stopping to make small talk with you in the office, will be getting lunch at the same cafe as you, and always seems to say goodbye to you when you leave for the day. It would be kind of nice, just rather friendly, if his very presence didn’t set you on edge for some reason you _just can’t quite put your finger on_.

But you can ignore it. Your headaches are marginally better, and soon enough you have bigger things to worry about. Like Joe pressing the buzzer to your apartment. _Repeatedly_. At _3am_.

“What are you doing here?” You grumble and yawn once he’s at your actual door after being buzzed in and taking the elevator up.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he muses, peering into your apartment, though you refuse to move.

“It’s not like you need it anyways, seriously, why are you here?” You ask, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. With your arms crossed over your chest, anyone else would have looked a little bit put out at being denied entry, but Joe just looks concerned.

“Headaches still bothering you?” He asked, and it’s here you drop his gaze, becoming acutely aware of the now ever-present ache in your skull. Slowly, slowly enough that you could stop him if you wanted, Joe reaches out to take your face in his hands. He’s warm, he always runs warm, but your gaze meets his and he looks like he’s concentrating.

“I’m not great at this,” he admits under his breath, and as you realise what he’s doing you wrench out of his grip, snatching up his hand and pulling him into your apartment. You close the door behind him, and for a moment he’s so worried that he’s made you angry, but when you look at him, it’s not with a glare, but with concern.

“In the hallway? Are you kidding? That’s so reckless!”

“I’m always reckless, have you met me?” He grins, but steps up to you, holds your face gently once more. This time, however, you lean into his touch, let your eyes fall closed as the familiarity of his warmth eases your poor, stressed and sore heart. “And it’s three in the morning, who’s gonna see?” He asks quietly, but it sounds distracted, and already you can feel the pain in your mind beginning to dissolve.

He doesn’t get all of it, but it’s much better than it was before, and when he announces that he did what he could, bringing your face close to his so he could drop a kiss on your forehead, you surge forward and wrap your arms around him.

“No, it’s great, it’s awesome, thank you so much,” you murmur, and he hugs you back, holds you tight and mutters about how Lucy’s better at that sort of stuff, but you pull back and kiss him to shut him up.

Much to your surprise, he admits easily how much he’s missed you, won’t even pretend he had some obviously fake motive, just toed off his shoes when you head back to bed, and tells you that he and Lucy had been worried, but her flight wouldn’t get her to you until tomorrow afternoon- actually, it’s after midnight; _this_ afternoon. You turn off the heater since Joe is warmer than a furnace, and the two of you settle in to bed together, curled up, your head on his chest.

“You don’t have a heartbeat,” you mutter, and Joe hums for a moment. The way the thump of his heartbeat starts so suddenly in his chest makes goosebumps rise on your arms.

“Babe that’s really freaky,” you rest your chin on his chest and fix him with a concerned look.

“I can make it sound like bongos, you wanna hear?” He grins brightly.

“Horrifying.” But still you lay back down, and he keeps the rhythm of his heartbeat steady. His fingers ghost along your bare arm and with your headache mostly alleviated, you can feel yourself drifting off again. “Love you.” You yawn, and he pets your arm gently.

“I love you too.”

You wake up for work the next morning feeling better than you have in almost three weeks. Joe walks you the few blocks to your office, his arm around you, the two of you chatting easily about nothing much, which turns to excitement about seeing Lucy again. There’s a few moments where you catch people staring and you _know_ it’s not your imagination and you find yourself remembering that Joe is in fact quite a big deal in his own right, especially with Bohemian Rhapsody so close to releasing, and you’re hit with a wave of insecurity.

But it seems Joe doesn’t notice, too distracted looking up at the building you work in. There’s a deep frown wrinkling his brow, and there’s concern in his voice when he asks you if this is the place.

You nod.

He blinks up at the building and you catch sight of his irises and whites swallowed up by an inky darkness as, for just a moment, he looks with his true sight.

“Maybe this place is giving you headaches,” and when he looks at you, his eyes are back to normal; if you didn’t know any better, you could play it off as a trick or the light, “weird vibes.” He adds.

“You and your vibes,” you smirk, giving him a shove, “it’s probably just a vampire in legal or something.” Joe groans, loud and faux put upon, scrunching his face up.

“A vampire? Ah, geeze of course I’m getting bad vibes-”

“I know, I know,” you tease, wrapping your arms around his neck, “never met a vampire who liked you.” Voice quiet, you try and placate him with a sweet kiss, but he can’t help himself.

“They just don’t like that I -”

“You’re about to say something weirdly specific that we can’t pass off as a euphemism the way we can with vampires,” you advise. He nods in solemn agreement, and you leave for work.

At about midday, your phone starts going off with messages, and you have to pause where you’re making small talk with Marcus to check it. It’s the group chat between yourself and your partners.

> **Lucy 💖:** when do you have lunch? just got in. want to see you xx  
**Squishy Human:** in about an hour and a half. hope your flight was good. excited to see you too!!  
**Devilman Crybaby:** do i make a joke about broomsticks or ‘your arms must be tired’  
**Lucy 💖:** broom parking is cheaper in england so unfortunately i flew here like a regular person 😘😘  
**Devilman Crybaby: **then your arms must be tired 😘
> 
> _Lucy 💖 changed Squishy Human’s nickname to Precious Human.  
_ _Devilman Crybaby changed Lucy _💖’s nickname to Sabrina the Teenage Witch _💖.  
___ _ _Precious Human changed the group chat name to No Bad Vibes._ _

“What’s got you so smiley?” Marcus asks, giving you a gentle nudge, though the moment he comes within even a centimetre of touching you, your headache _spikes_ and your mood sours.

“My girlfriend just got in to town, it’s been a while since I’ve seen her,” you say, careful not to say too much; for all they’re casual with you, Joe and Lucy are still celebrities. Marcus is giving off a _seriously werid _energy, maybe you should have Lucy or Joe run some sort of supernatural background check on him… which you weren’t entirely sure they could do, neither of them was really forthcoming about the extent of their powers, persay, but you could at least bring up the suggestion.

But for the moment, he seems happy for you, and he moves on and lets you get back to your work.

When you step out of your building and into the blinding afternoon sunlight, you take a few moments to blink, to orientate yourself with your headache still pulsing by your temples. After a moment of glaring at the clear, blue sky, you’re greeted by a familiar feminine voice, though when you turn, it’s not to a familiar face.

“Hello dear,” it’s Lucy’s voice, you’d know it anywhere, but the woman definitely doesn’t _look _like Lucy. She’s blonde, lithe and angular, but you’re pretty sure that’s where the similarities stop.

“Excuse me?” Of course you’re hesitant, you’re about sixty percent sure it’s Lucy, but it’s also LA, and you’re already wrapped up in some strange, supernatural stuff, so you can never really be too careful. 

“Oh, sorry, it’s me, it’s Lucy. I’m trying out a new glamour,” relief floods through you at her words; you didn’t exactly have any reason to not believe her. You can’t help but smile, and then she’s grinning brightly back; even for the illusion, you’d never be able to mistake that smile for anyone else’s. 

When she hugs you, she murmurs a much gentler, much fonder greeting into the crook of your neck, and something about just holding her close eases the aching in your mind. Though she shifts so she can look at you, her elegant fingers coming to ghost across your brow, she doesn’t move back, doesn’t move away.

“There _is _something there,” she murmurs, thoughtful more than anything else. It feels like she’s looking through you, looking past you, seeing something more beyond what everyone else could. It was a little unnerving.

“Hey,” voice gentle, you call her back to reality, expression gentle, and yeah it felt a little weird to be looking at a face that was not entirely Lucy’s, the familiar warmth of her in your arms was enough to reassure you, “let’s get some lunch before you start telling me my brain is haunted.” You joke, and Lucy’s answering smile is soft, her hand coming to rest on your cheek as she agrees easily. 

Meeting her halfway, the way she kisses you is all too familiar, sweet and gentle in the afternoon light. It feels like you can breathe again for the first time in a long time.

> __Sabrina the Teenage Witch _💖__ sent a photo to No Bad Vibes._
> 
> **Devilman Crybaby: **Who Is She  
**Devilman Crybaby:** Who is that with Y/N?? Lucy is that the source of her headaches??  
**Precious Human: **omfg joe  
**Devilman Crybaby:** ???  
**Sabrina the Teenage Witch 💖:** That’s me  
**Sabrina the Teenage Witch 💖**: I’m using a glamour.  
**Precious Human: **😂😂😂  
**Devilman Crybaby:** oh.  
**Devilman Crybaby: **you guys are adorable im so stupid 😂😍

“There’s something strange about you,” Lucy’s frowning at you across the table where you’re both eating lunch in your favourite cafe, and isn’t that a strange thought. If someone told you a year ago that you’d be sharing lunch with Lucy Boynton, actual witch and your girlfriend, you’d absolutely have laughed until you’d cried, yet here you were.

“_You_-weird, or regular people weird?” You ask around a mouthful of the sandwich you’d bought.

“Well,” and she gives a small smile, looking down at where she’s stabbing at her fruit salad absent-mindedly with her fork, “there’s always something strange about you, but that’s strange I’m used to; _our_ strange rubs off on you, you can’t help that.” At that you frown, but keep quiet, just wait for her to elaborate, “okay,” she finally concedes, “for all we make fun of Joe for his obsession with the concept of vibes, it’s the only way I can describe this phenomena; each of us, me, Joe, Rami, Ben, Gwil, and everyone like us, if we’re around someone for an extended period of time, someone _like you_, we tend to leave…” pausing, she ate a piece of watermelon, looking thoughtful, “we leave vibes, like a proof of our existence.”

“You guys have marked me?” You snort, and Lucy’s eyes go wide, as does her grin.

“Not in a physical sense, it’s more like perfume -” though she reflexively frowned, “I mean, Rami’s almost literally is, from what I can recall, but he’s an angel so what else would you expect.”

“Like perfume,” you muse, “so it fades?”

“Yes, usually after maybe a week or so? Depends, it’s different for everyone.”

“So if Rami’s perfume, what’s Joe?” Your grin turns wicked, “is it wet dog? Burnt toast? I’m going with smells here, are the vibes like smells? What does _someone like Joe _vibe?” You ask pointedly, wiggling to get more comfortable in your seat, your sandwich forgotten as you leaned forward eagerly. Idly you knew there had to be day-to-day effects of exposure to supernatural creatures, but it was exciting to get confirmation.

“Everyone’s vibe is different, it’s not necessarily a smell; Gwil is the feeling of waking up from a nap in an orchard on a perfect Summer afternoon,” Lucy spoke around a grape and piece of honeydew, “Ben’s hard to describe; the best I can give you is like… pop rocks? But pop rocks that aren’t of this galaxy.” She half laughs, and you nod; makes sense. “But Joe,” her smile becomes almost adoring, so fond as she considered him, “he’s cinnamon whiskey.” Laughing a little, her eyes roam your face, searching. “The others have faded, but he’s there; it’s strange, him being the only familiar one I can sense.”

And there it is again, that concern, that feel like she’s looking at you but not really seeing you.

“It’s like someone set fire to a wasps nest!” It’s the single least comforting thing anyone has ever said to you, and she says it like she’s solved some great mystery. At your blatant concern, she finally meets your gaze, and reaches slowly to tap your temple; as she does so, your headache spikes, making you visibly wince, though she moment she withdraws her hand the pain eases, “I’ve been trying to figure out what it felt like, it’s all by your temples, bunched up there.”

“Can you do anything about it? That sounds horrifying.” Leaning back, you can’t help but frown, anxiety beginning to pool in your stomach.

“Not here,” Lucy answers, her expression mirroring your own, “after you finish work we can figure something out, I promise.” You let it go, let it slide, it’s not bothering you much at the moment, so you just let yourself enjoy her company.

“What’s your vibe?” You ask, after a long moment and a few more bites of your lunch. Lucy gives a strange little smile.

“I don’t have a very strong aura; I’m still mostly human -”

“You’re like four hundred.”

“I’m a child compared to the rest of them, and,” she hesitates, “I’m the only one who started out completely human,” she admits, and that comes as news to you, though you try not to let your shock show on your face, “it’s not really my place to talk about it but, yeah, by a lot of people’s standards I’m just a very hardy human with a lot of tricks up my sleeve.” Though she looks a little forlorn, it only takes her a moment to smile again, this time gentle and warm, “I’m not sure about my vibe right now, but Joe can sense it pretty well, ask him.”

Though your headache had subsided over lunch, it comes back with a vengeance back in the office, and you’re practically counting down the minutes until you can head home. Thankfully Marcus leaves you alone for the afternoon, though he gives you a strange look when you get back in from lunch. You don’t dwell on it.

> **Devilman Crybaby:** @Precious Human something is wrong with your apartment  
**Precious Human:** oh hell what did you break?  
**Devilman Crybaby:** no, that’s lucy saying that. she just showed up.  
**Devilman Crybaby:** also she’s right.  
**Precious Human:** ???   
**Precious Human: **What Does That Mean  
**Sabrina the Teenage Witch 💖:** can you meet us at the restaurant across from your place after work?  
**Precious Human:** yeh of course  
**Precious Human:** seriously, what’s wrong with my apartment??

You find them both tucked away in the back corner of the Chinese restaurant across the road from your apartment, talking quiet enough that no-one passing by would be able to hear them. Joe looks uncharacteristically serious. Lucy’s still in her glamour.

“It’s not random; you’re being targeted.” Lucy tells you flatly as you slide into the booth opposite the both of them.

“Hello to you too, _super _ominous greeting, thanks,” your eyebrows rise as you look between them, unamused, concerned more than anything else.

“How was work?” Joe gives a brief reprieve and slight smile, bumping your foot with his under the table. You sigh, unable to bring yourself to smile back, shrugging.

“Weird.” 

He nods in understanding, and you both turn your attention back to Lucy.

“Sorry, hello dear, I didn’t mean to alarm you, I’m just worried,” she sighed, reaching out across the table to take your hand in hers, “it feels like someone’s purposefully giving you negative energy, like they’ve been overloading you with it for a while, and you carry it home with you and-”

“It’s all over my apartment,” you feel your breath catch in your throat, eyes going wide in realisation.

“Yeah,” Joe nodded grimly, “I felt it last night but I didn’t want to worry you in case my senses were off or something; I thought it was a mistake.” There’s a strange quality to his voice, a muted anger that seems to surprise even Lucy, and when the two of you turn to him, his gaze dips.

“What do you mean?” Lucy asked quietly, and Joe looked up, giving a tight smile.

“I thinks it’s one of mine.”

“Yours?” You ask with a slight frown. He gives you a _very _pointed look.

_Oh. His. Demon. Oh no._

“How do you know?” You hear yourself ask, and even Lucy seems interested in hearing the answer.

“So Luce told you about, like, vibes and shit,” Joe began, avoiding both of your gazes and fidgeting, “well for people, ah, _like me_, we have some control over that - _some - _but there’s a catch; we, I’m gonna say _run warm_, and our vibes or whatever always reflect that. At first it’s like a warning sign for anyone who can sense it, like ‘_stay away! This dude somehow feels like a forest fire!_’, you know? But as we get older, we can change it so that it’s less _aggressive,_ if we want it to be, but it’s still warm, and it’s a very slow going process.” He pauses, considers, “I have a friend, granted they’re much older than me, and they’re like falling asleep in a sunbeam. It’s cosy, but they use it to lure in other creatures who can sense it, like an angler fish, you know?”

For the barest moment you find yourself painfully aware of the fact that Joe Mazzello, the man sitting across from you, is a literal demon, an apex predator, and older than he’ll ever admit. The fact that he’s sitting across from you, his knee knocking yours beneath this little table, so calm and nonthreatening, it’s more than a little terrifying when you think about it.

“Are you okay?” Joe brings you back to reality, looking at you with concern.

“Yeah, I’m - why?” You say, still feeling a thrum of nervous anxiety running through you, both from the realisation that Joe was a terrifying and probably ancient demon, and that a different demon might be targeting you. After a beat, you pinched the bridge of your nose, exhaling, another memory coming to you, “it’s still weird that you can tell when I’m afraid.”

“Listen, if I could turn off that particular sense of mine, I would, everyone’s so afraid nowadays,” Joe grumbles, adjusting to sit lower in his seat, actually pouting, “and it’s not even _fun _fear; the twenty-sixteen clown sightings? _That _was fun; like candy- it was like fairy floss to me. Now all I’ve got is climate change and politics, it’s like I’m stuck eating drywall.” His words leave you reeling, and even Lucy looks a little concerned, but Joe just huffed. “Anyways, it’s probably one of my lot, but I don’t recognise it; last person I knew who had an affinity for putting wasps in their aura is taking a vacation at the bottom of Marianas Trench.”

There’s no way you’re heading back to the apartment tonight, a sentiment which all three of you agree upon, and so that’s how you find yourself in a hotel a few blocks from your house. Since you hadn’t been able to go home, you find yourself in a fluffy bath robe provided by the establishment after your shower.

“You look so cute like that,” Joe grins from where he’s lounging on the bed, watching TV idly while Lucy keeps pulling things from her suitcase. The moment she’d stepped into the hotel room she’d taken off the charm bracelet she’d been wearing, and her glamour had dropped away.

Now she looked like herself, carefully lining up dried herbs and other ingredients, looking back and forth between them and an old looking book. When you climb onto the bed beside Joe, you take a moment to watch her, quiet and contemplative, before shifting to lie against his chest.

“What’s Lucy’s vibe?” You recall your earlier conversation, and Lucy grows still where she’s working.

“She didn’t tell you?” Joe asks, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you close so he could rub circles against your back.

“I couldn’t; I’m terrible at sensing my own aura,” Lucy shoots a sheepish smile over her shoulder, and Joe laughs, the sound low and warm in his chest. This time when you look at him, his eyes are a cool, glassy black; pupil, iris, whites, all swallowed up by darkness.

“It’s harder to sense any auras of vibes without suped-up eyes like mine,” he wriggles his eyebrows with a grin, and it’s not as unnerving as you thought it would be, stifling a laugh as you watched him watch Lucy. “But Lucy does a pretty impressive job; she’s the first witch I’ve met with an aura,” Joe muses frowning a little, and Lucy goes back to her work, “it changes more than anyone else’s I’ve met; her vibes are whatever was involved with the last spell she cast.”

“So right now?” You prompt, and Joe smiles fondly.

“Like indescribably metallic, and the sound of those charms on her bracelet knocking together, a little bit of thyme, and a lemon zest spray I’m pretty sure, and- vanilla,” as he speaks, Lucy nods in confirmation for each of them, “but she always has a bit of a vanilla thing going on.”

“It’s the reason I can see auras at all,” Lucy explained, mostly to you as Joe was nodding along like he already knew this.

It felt good to be back with them both, it felt safe. Lucy had her things laid out across the desk, but once she’d done some basic warding on the room, she seemed content to curl up by your other side. The tricky stuff could wait until tomorrow, all three of you finally had a moment to enjoy one another.

The three of you catch each other up on your lives on what’s been happening, not that you didn’t know most of it, you messaged daily after all, but it was good to talk in person. As Lucy talks about a few upcoming projects she’s interested in, she rests her head in your lap, and you card your fingers through her hair. Joe, meanwhile, where he’s sitting beside you against the headboard, rests his head on your hand. The headache you’d been steadily trying to ignore starts to subside; it’s like finding shade and cold water in the middle of the desert, a reprieve, a break from the irritation. With the pain no longer keeping you on high alert, you feel the exhaustion of the past few days settling in, and your hand comes to still in Lucy’s hair.

“I tried clearing the negative stuff,” Joe explains to the witch, who gives a grateful smile as she reaches up to cup your jaw, “I’m still not great at it; aura cleaning has never been a speciality.”

“But it looks like it’s done her a world of good,” Lucy says gently, running her thumb along your cheek, and you yawn and nod, “sweetheart, if you want to go to sleep, feel free; we’re not gonna go anywhere.” Joe leans his head on your shoulder, and you press a kiss to the top of his head.

“I love you guys,” you murmur, and Lucy’s already obligingly moving from your lap so you can get under the covers. 

Between them you’re safe and secure; come what may tomorrow, but tonight there’s nowhere you’d rather be.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They plan to confront whoever is messing with Y/N but it does not go as smoothly as hoped; looks like Joe and Lucy are going to have to show just how powerful they really are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to write badass supernatural joe and lucy protecting reader. maybe a bit to edgy but idk, no death but implied smut and violence at the end.

Logically, you know both Lucy and Joe are badasses in their own rights, though sometimes it’s more difficult to remember than others. Like right now, for instance, with Joe sitting beside you and eating and entire bag of jelly beans from the hotel’s mini-fridge, his eyes glued to the television where TMZ is being loud and obnoxious, and with Lucy curled up on his other side, cup of tea in one hand and her phone in the other where she’s scrolling through Instagram. You try to remind yourself that Joe runs warm because he’s a literal demon, but then you can’t stop thinking about how comfortable you are, and you rest your head on his shoulder.

You called in sick to work today, and Cheryl’s more than happy to let you have it; she’d noticed your poor form over the past few weeks, and had wished you a swift recovery. 

“So what now?” You ask after hanging up, throwing your phone down to the end of the bed.

“What now?” Joe repeats back, a little confused, sitting up a little straighter, though Lucy rests her chin on his chest, looking at you with those clear, blue eyes of hers.

“Well we have to figure out a way to get rid of whoever’s targeting you,” and it’s said as if it’s the easiest thing in the world, not as if they’re thinking of facing off against a literal demon.

“How?” You’re not quite sure if you want to know the details, but you can’t help but ask. It’s here Lucy goes quiet, looking to Joe with something akin to hesitation in her gaze; immediately you feel Joe tense. 

“_No_.”

“If you stay away you won’t be -” Lucy tries, but Joe’s agitated now at the mere thought of whatever she’s planning to suggest.

“And leave you both, what, alone? Not a chance.” As resolute as he sounds, you’re still completely lost, looking between them with confusion written all over your face.

“It’s a last resort,” Lucy’s voice is placating, but Joe’s not buying it.

“Then why suggest it _first?”_

“Suggest _what_?” You ask finally, and Joe turns to you, expression flat.

“Exorcism.”

“Wait, that’s real?” You hear yourself asking, bewildered, and Joe nods once; then it hits you, “you can be exorcised?” Joe looks distinctly unamused as to the direction of this conversation.

“_Technically_,” is all he offers, but that just raises more questions than it answers, “listen, I’m more than happy to give you a whole lesson on how I work, but I’m not leaving you two alone so you can _try _and exorcise a demon. If it doesn’t work - most exorcists in America are crooks anyways; Wikihow is more reliable than a so-called professional these days.” Joe wriggles out from between the two of you, scooting from the with his hands flexing by his sides. 

“I’m more than capable of handling myself,” Lucy tells him with only the faintest tinge of resentment. 

“You’ve been _around _demons, and you’ve fought _spirits_, but you’ve never -” Joe cuts himself off with a sigh, “I don’t know enough about this guy to know you can handle it on your own if you needed to; shit, babe, I don’t know if we’d be able to handle it together.”

“Really not instilling a lot of confidence here,” you pipe up, stomach twisting into knots; as you speak, both Lucy and Joe seem to remember you’re there, and Joe’s climbing back on the bed as he feels the fear radiating from you, as much as you try to hide it.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Joe’s voice is immediately soothing, his hand on yours and Lucy’s on your shoulder, just having them in contact easing your nerves, “I’m just saying we weren’t super prepared for this, and whoever they are, they’ve been planning; we just need to figure out who they are, and everything will be okay, okay?”

“So how do we get rid of them if not exorcism?” You ask, voice quiet, and Joe and Lucy share a look.

“There’s a few different things we could try -”

“_Try_?” And yeah, it comes out a little more disbelieving than you’d intended, but you reasoned that any other person in your situation would probably be reacting far worse. 

“Hey, listen,” Joe’s hands raise defensively, his eyes wide and open, an altogether too human expression, directly contrasting the next words from his mouth, “it’s been a while since I’ve bothered to go up against someone like me. We don’t tend to go after each other’s property -”

“_Excuse me_,” you all but snarled, and Joe was quick to apologise in a panic.

“Not- you’re not- you’re _marked _is what I mean. It’s like a dog pissing on a tree, I’m not saying you’re my property, _jesus christ_, I’m saying -”

“That demons are territorial little babies,” Lucy said with a sharp smile, “who get jealous when the person they spend the most time with starts seeing another demon.”

“Yes,” Joe sighed with relief, before actually realising what she’d said, scowling, “hey!” But it gets you to laugh, and the tension drops.

“All I’m saying is that there’s billions of people in the world, so if a demon runs into one that’s marked, it’s not exactly worth it to mess with them; demon fights are… messy,” he hesitates for a moment with the barest wince, “and painful.”

He doesn’t elaborate. 

Together the three of you make plans; Lucy wants to go into the office in a glamour, but Joe points out that any demon worth their salt would see through her glamour in person in a heartbeat, and would only try and hide themselves knowing that she herself was trying to hide. 

“What can you tell about them from their aura?” You ask finally, to which both Joe and Lucy stop and consider.

“They’re young,” Joe says, “and either really sloppy, or _really _wanting to get the message across.” You give him a confused look, not quite understanding, and Joe, for a beat, looks genuinely uncomfortable, “they’ve marked you.”

“I thought you guys marked me.”

“We did,” Lucy said, “but like I said, it fades; there’s a chance that the new demon saw you as, I don’t know, a challenge? Like they could sense our auras fading, like -”

“Like I’m some collectible or trophy or some shit!” You huffed, getting off the bed and to your feet, pacing, “something to steal from a bigger, scarier demon, and a witch.” 

“And the others,” Lucy added, reminding you of the rest of the cast.

“_Great_,” you threw your hands into the air, “I’ve been marked by four supernatural forces of fucking nature, and whatever Ben is -”

“Alien.” Joe reminds quietly.

“- I’m basically a massive diamond in a spy movie; surprised some vampire hasn’t swept me away sooner.” You’re left a little out of breath by your rant, and when you come back to reality, you see both your partners watching, wide-eyed, thoughtful.

“You _are _a giant diamond in a spy movie,” Joe agrees slowly.

“Thanks,” you respond, deadpan as he seemingly misses the point, but you can almost see the cogs ticking over in his mind.

“This demon, whoever they are, they’re an amateur monster, out for bragging rights,” there’s a light in Joe’s eyes that you haven’t seen before, something akin to hunger. He turns to Lucy, “you and me? We’re the owners of the museum; we’re the fancy lasers and the guard dogs and the glass case.” And when you turn to Lucy, you see that same hunger as she’s already on his wavelength.

“I suppose whoever this new demon is, they don’t know the real monsters are back,” she says in quiet agreement. A shiver runs down your spine; something about their intensity, their desperation to protect you, it makes you feel wanted, _needed. _

They’d always taken a lot of care to not scare you off, which you were well aware of; they’d never outright stated how powerful either of them were, but according to Rami at least, they were incredibly formidable in their field; coming from a literal angel, that meant _something_. Now, sitting here, the two of them seemed to have whole conversations without saying a single word, plans passing between them in the blink of an eye. You think for a moment that you see the shadow of something dark behind Joe, like wings or a tail, but as soon as it’s there, it’s gone.

“She’s such a precious human,” Lucy says after a moment, looking away from Joe to fix you with a dark-eyed stare, a smile curling the edge of her lips. “_Our _precious human.”

“We should do something about that,” Joe agrees, and suddenly, under their combined gaze, you feel yourself growing flustered. 

“I’m not…” You trail off, licking your lips, unsure of what to say.

“It’s like a seal of protection,” Lucy tells you gently, getting to her feet and making her way towards you, “no-one owns anyone, don’t get it twisted, darling, as much as you’re _our _precious human, we’re yours.”

“My darling monsters,” you hear yourself say with gentle affection, mesmerized by how wide her pupils are blown.

“I like how you say that,” Joe muses with a slight smirk, “I haven’t -” he chokes a little on the sentiment, but his smile turns sincere and he powers on, “I haven’t needed to protect someone in a long time. It feels nice, feels good.” He muses, and your heart’s beating in your ears. 

An old and powerful demon, and one of the strongest witches of the age, _want you_. You swallow hard. You’re not afraid like you thought you would be, no, you’re kind of excited. 

They lavish you with attention, soaking your aura with theirs as they see fit to remind you of one of the many reasons why you love them. Your skin almost burns under their touch, hot and desperate between them, and when you finally break for dinner, you’re more relaxed than you have been in _months_. 

“Are they gone?” You ask over a room service dinner, to which they both give you a look of confusion. “From my aura; I don’t feel them, like I feel…” you give a rather breathy, flustered laugh, “I feel great.”

“Completely gone,” Lucy tells you with a mischievous smile, and Joe reaches out to take your chin between his fingers, pulling you in for a kiss.

“Just us there now.”

“My darling monsters, keeping me safe,” you breathe, content, and Joe and Lucy share a pleased smile. 

The next morning, you awake to Lucy, in her underwear, sitting before her suitcase, her makeshift altar, crushing something with her mortar and pestle. The bed is cold, and Joe is absent.

“He went to your work,” she tells you, elaborating that he’s going to try and confront the problem head on; if he does it somewhere public, there’s less chance of it ending with violence. “He’s trying to intimidate the problem away.” She conceded.

“A good, old fashioned dick-measuring contest,” you nod in understanding, which is enough to make her laugh, and you let yourself feel at peace as you flick on the TV, and she goes back to mixing her herbs.

At midday, however, Lucy’s head snaps towards the door, her expression suddenly stony. 

“Get dressed,” she tells you, just moments before Joe all but kicks the door off it’s hinges, telling you the exact same thing. He looks _furious_. 

“_Marcus_.” He snarls in the doorway, and your blood runs cold. _How did you not realise? _“He’s younger than you, Luce,” Joe snaps as he shuts the door behind himself, and you feel a ripple of fear run through you, loathing thick in his voice, but Joe doesn’t seem to notice your sudden nervousness as he’s packing away his things with a surprising ferocity, “he called me a sellout.”

“Why?” Lucy’s packing away her equipment with one hand, drawing sigils in the air with the other.

“He could sense Rami on her when he met her,” Joe told her flatly, but as he went to pick up his final shirt, the heat from his hands had it catching alight, to which you and Lucy flinched. “Asshole has no respect for his elders,” he paused, taking a moment to calm himself, snuffing the flaming shirt out with his hands and tossing it into the bin, “we stopped fighting with angels _millennia _ago, but he’s one of those righteous ‘_newly free from hell’ _assholes.”

You stand by the door awkwardly, wearing the same clothes you’d arrived in two days ago, clutching at your purse with a newfound nervousness. 

“And now, he’s coming after us; me or Y/N, because he’s tracking _my _aura specifically, and I know that _I _can take him, but I don’t want you to face him on your own, so splitting up isn’t an option. The point is, he gets off work at five, and he’s not afraid of causing a scene.”

“_Fuck_,” Lucy breathes, taking a moment to process this, before she looks to you.

“Where are we going?” You asked, trying not to sound as absolutely terrified as you felt. 

“I - middle of nowhere, I suppose,” Lucy responded, before turning to Joe, “right? Somewhere where a scene won’t be made?” 

Joe, who had just finished zipping his own suitcase, takes a deep breath, finally reading the room, tasting your fear, and he nods in agreement. They’re packed up, ready to leave, and Joe takes your hand, and you feel Lucy tracing sigils against your back in the elevator.

They take your car, which apparently _reeks _of Marcus’s aura, which Joe, in his righteous fury, clears easily enough that it takes Lucy by surprise. You sit quietly in the back seat with Lucy’s hand in yours.

“I’m sorry,” Joe’s grip is white-knuckled on the steering wheel when he finally speaks, now on the highway after an hour of driving, “we - demons - have a way of doing things, it’s - it’s like an honor code, I thought -”

“You’re not responsible for him,” Lucy tells him gently, letting go of your hand for a moment to lean forward and give Joe’s shoulder a squeeze.

“I feel like I am. We’re better than this; he’s giving us a bad name.” He sighs, and you reach forward to gently scratch at his scalp. “I’m sorry I endangered you like this.”

“It’s not your fault,” you tell him, before adding gently, “I love you.”

“I love you too, precious,” he catches your gaze in the rear view mirror, shooting for a gentle smile, which you return. Leaning back, Lucy takes your hand again, and resumes her sigils, “I hate that you have to see me like this.”

“It’s kind of hot,” you admit, and he snorts a laugh. 

It’s like old times, back when you’d first met, driving for hours on end as the sunset rapidly approaches, music playing, an ominous future looming ahead. 

At four, Joe pulls off the highway onto a dirt road, taking a seemingly random set of twists and turns until all you could see for miles was desert. At half past four, he stops, takes a moment to breathe, and turns the car off. 

“No-one for miles.” He says, “we should have an hour.”

“But it took us four hours to get here,” you feel panic rising in you, and Joe isn’t quite sure what reaction you’re looking for, all he can do is tell you the truth.

“He’s travelling alone.”

“He’s fast.” You realise, voice suddenly hoarse as your mouth feels dry, “you’re fast.” You realise.

“When I want to be,” Joe agrees. Lucy’s already out of the car, opening the trunk and pulling out her suitcase. She doesn’t talk as she works, her spell book hovering beside her, open and blatantly supernatural as she mixes things and draws sigils, casting unspoken spells. Joe’s just pacing, hands in his pockets; you’re not used to him being nervous and tense. The sun is setting fast, not that you can see it, in the half an hour that’s passed, clouds that had been gathering on the horizon have moved swiftly over you all, thunder rumbling ominously overhead. 

Lucy pours things into the dirt, and writes symbols in the air all around the spot where you’re parked, and Joe eats an entire packet of gum and turns the headlights on.

“There’s nothing I can do, it’s all just… just in the moment,” he explains to you, looking at where you’re holding his hand; after a moment he looks up at you, into your eyes, “can I try something?” All you can do is nod.

He takes your face in his hands, and you watch in almost excruciating detail as his pupils expand until the irises and whites of his eyes disappear in the darkness. His hands are hot on your skin, almost burning, in a very literal sense, enough to make you uncomfortable. After a moment, you feel a headache rapidly forming just behind your eyes, and the sky outside is turning inky too. 

“Look at your hand,” something’s wrong with Joe, maybe it’s too many teeth, maybe it’s that there’s something tucked up behind his back, something black and feathery. You feel like you’re about to throw up, distressed, hot and uncomfortable, but you trust him; lifting your hand, you see, like a tattoo made of light, a familiar symbol, the sigil Lucy’s always tracing there. You can only stand a few moments more, however, wrenching yourself from his grip, heaving from the car as you dry heave. 

“What was that?”

“So it worked?” He asked, looking altogether like himself once more. He lay a gentle hand on your cheek, and suddenly your headache and nausea disappeared. “It’s what Marcus has been trying to do to you, at least a little bit,” Joe admitted, and you could feel your own fear spike; he apologises quickly. “It’s my true sight; on your hand, that’s Lucy’s protection sigil.”

“What the fuck did you do to me?” You asked, still shaking a little, and Joe looks hesitant for a moment, apologising again.

“I overloaded you with my aura for a moment; it’s…” he pauses, but as you regain your breath, you feel your heart rate ease, “it’s the first step to possession.”

“You tried to possess me?”

“_No_,” he’s very firm on that, “I just wanted to show you true sight for a moment, I’d never possess you; I never want to hurt you like that.” After you take a moment to get your head around the concept, you find yourself looking back at him with something that’s almost pity.

“Did it hurt you?”

“There was never anyone in here to begin with; found Joseph Mazello Three as his little soul passed on a few minutes after being born. Kinda had a feeling he was destined for great things.” He gives a half smile, and you find yourself smiling back. “I am sorry that hurt so much.”

“Thank you,” you tell him sincerely, “for showing me.” Sitting yourself back in the car, you let him take your hand, watch him trace where you know the sigil now lies. “How come I’ve never been able to use Marcus’ true sight?”

“He never gave you enough of his aura; it’s easier to possess people if they end up passing out from the pain leading up to it, rather than fighting it,” he paused, giving your hand a squeeze, “I don’t think I told you how incredible I think you are, enduring so much for so long, you astound me some times.” At that, you can’t help but duck your head, feeling flustered and strangely pleased at the compliment. Joe presses a kiss to your forehead, mumbling that he loves you.

Thunder crashes overhead. Lucy calls out to you both. Marcus is close. 

“Precious,” it appears they’re sticking to this new nickname, though you’re not complaining as Lucy addresses you, “stay in the car, please.” And you oblige, scrambling into the back seat watching through the windshield as Lucy and Joe stand tall in the car’s headlights. 

A blur, a streak of darkness and a rush like the sound of a very large fire very close, and a creature stands across from them; you recognize Marcus’ body, though he’s missing an arm and half his torso, as well as his whole head, like his body had been ripped in half, a malevolent darkness, like living shadows, undefinable but with wings and horns, spews forth. 

Fear has you frozen to your seat, but Joe stalks forwards, yelling for Marcus to fuck off. Something like a laugh leaves Marcus, who instead turns on Lucy, shooting out a tendril of darkness almost too fast for you to see; you scream, but it’s drowned out by a crack of thunder, and Lucy points to the sky, moving faster than any normal human should, and lightning strikes the ground from the clouds above, setting the darkness alight. 

In another swift movement, Lucy brings her hands up in a cross over her head, before bringing them down, just as five distinct bolts of lighting strike the ground around Marcus and Joe, vanishing in an instant.

Changing tactics, Marcus makes to run at the car, at _you_, but the moment he gets within ten feet of you, he’s suddenly struck by lightning, and Lucy’s wearing a sharp, victorious smile. 

“I have no fucking problem with either of you! Give me her! Give me the angel-marked one!” Marcus’ voice is like nails on a chalkboard, “you can’t keep me here forever!” He runs at the invisible border again, only to be struck again; Lucy’s stepping back, weaving sigils through the air.

“I don’t need to,” Lucy tells him, all sharp teeth and shining eyes, and in a flash, you see Joe hit at the invisible barrier, his hands disappearing, only to be replaced with the same shadow-like substance that half of Marcus was made from, but with red lighting crackling through the darkness.

“Dude, _we _have a problem with you,” Joe tells him, and Marcus, seeing the state of Joe’s hands, of the lightning that ran through him, begins to panic.

Now you see them for who they are, Lucy, powerful enough to command the heavens themselves, to lock up demons even as powerful as Joe, and Joe, a demon powerful enough to make another of his kind cower. 

Marcus, seeing how he was outmatched, stretches his wings, taking to the sky within the confines of the lightning prison Lucy had created. Joe sighs, as if terribly put upon, and then, in a flash of light, a pair of wings spreads from his shoulder blades, much larger than you’d ever expected, having seen glimpses of them nestled tightly against him; large enough now that as he takes off, the edges spark with lightning, like a sword across stone. 

When Marcus crashes back to Earth, with enough force to leave a small crater, all that’s left of his human form is his calves and sneakers. Joe lands, his shadowy hands in his pockets as he meanders to the hissing and spitting lesser-demon with an almost lazy confidence.

“Listen, dude, I know you’re young and dumb and full of righteous anger,” Joe tells him, and looks to Lucy, tipping his head, asking her to come forward, “but there’s a way we do things on the surface here, right Luce?”

“Exactly; no more witch hunts, no more righteous wars,” she agrees, and Marcus tries to retaliate, to get up and strike her now that she was in striking distance, but the moment he touches her skin, he shrieks, and recoils like he’s been burned. 

“That’s our precious damn human, _Marc_,” Joe glowers, kicking out at Marcus’ chest, holding him against the barrier, which, with constant pressure applied to it, was a wall of lightning, “and you made her cry.” 

Joe nods at Lucy, a final confirmation, and Lucy rips the necklace from around her neck, holding the charm in hand as she pressed her flat palm to the center of the darkness that way Marcus. The sound that Marcus emitted would haunt you for the rest of your life, a blood curdling scream that you could feel in your bones. You watch with horror as Lucy’s hand closes around something solid in the writhing mass of darkness, and then, in a flash, the wall of lightning, and Marcus himself, were gone, and Lucy’s left holding something smoking in her palm.

“My god, do you know how rare a hellfire core is?” Is the first thing you hear, and Lucy’s tone is so light and excited that you immediately know you’re in the clear. They’re walking back to you, chattering, one of Joe’s arms around Lucy’s shoulders as if his hand isn’t just a mass of shadow and lightning. 

“You won’t turn any of that shit on me, will you?” Joe asks, mostly joking, though there’s a surprisingly nervous look in his eyes. This seems to please Lucy, glad to hear him, at least in a roundabout way, confirm that she was absolutely on his level, supernaturally speaking.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she tells him with a pleased little smile; opening the door to the back seat, however, they both freeze.

“Are you guys okay?” You sniffle, eyes wide as you feel yourself crying. There’s no other emotions in this moment apart for relief and residual fear in equal measure. They pull you out of the car, assuring you that they’re fine, peppering you with kisses as they sandwich you between them.

They’re both apologising for putting you in danger, promising to always keep you safe, and you cry harder. 

“I’m so sorry if we scared you,” Lucy murmurs gently against the shell of your ear, her hand still fisted around Marcus’ hellfire core, and you feel it’s warmth through her closed fingers against your back.

“You- I-” you stutters, trying to find the words, “what the fuck are you guys?” Because it’s hitting you again, that you have _no idea _the scope of their power, just remembering the lazy way they’d approached the fight, more worried about causing a scene than the fight itself. It had been so _easy _for them.

“The best bodyguards ever?” Joe tries, but Lucy sighs, trailing the softest kisses from your cheek to your lips.

“We’re a witch, and a demon; your darling monsters, remember,” she reminds you gently, her lips inches from yours, “we’ll always keep you safe.”

“You really mean it, don’t you?” You asked, looking with teary-eyes between Joe and Lucy, who, despite all their power, were doing everything to comfort and reassure you in this moment. They nodded earnestly, smiles sincere and open, and finally you felt the fear leaving you, their reassurance seeping into your heart as you wrapped your arms around them. 

“Let’s go home,” Joe suggests, pressing a warm kiss to your temple, careful to not directly touch you with his shadowy hands, assuring you it won’t take more than a few days to regrow his human hands. Demons, he’s quick to inform you, are stronger outside of their vessel. This goes a ways to comforting you; Marcus had been almost completely free, and all Joe had freed were his hands, and yet he had still found it to be a cake walk.

“Could we stop and get dinner first, _please_,” you ask, climbing into the back seat with him as Lucy started the car.

“Oh absolutely,” Joe is quick to agree, “I’m _starving.” _

_“Anything for you, precious_,” and you catch Lucy’s adoring smile in the mirror, your heart growing warm at her words, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that she means it.


End file.
